


Ringo

by Scribe32oz



Series: Seven Scrolls [32]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV), Tombstone (1993)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Ensemble Cast, F/M, Healthy Relationships, Post-Canon, Revenge, Western
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-08 10:24:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15928484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribe32oz/pseuds/Scribe32oz
Summary: When Johnny Ringo discovers he has a doppelganger in Chris Larabee, the most dangerous outlaw in the Territory heads for Four Corners, to face one final challenge. As Ringo brings the remnants of the Conchise County Cowboys with him, Chris Is forced to look into the dark mirror of his soul to see the embodiment of what he might have been if he had never been a part of the seven..A/N - Having a bit of trouble continuing with this one, so I'm stepping a way for a bit. By no means am I giving up on the story but I don't want to keep going and write less than a good story.  Those who have supported this fic, thank you for your consideration and I promise to get back to this as soon as I can.





	1. Blaze of Glory

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based loosely on the facts around the movie Tombstone and certain elements of Johnny Ringo's actual history.

Like the dust storm rolling into the Territory, the man riding through it was heading back to Territory, wondering why he was returning at all. It was not as if he was not a wanted man already and he had probably the most relentless lawman in the West determined to catch him. However, Johnny Ringo was not terribly worried about the consequences should he get caught. 

In truth it would probably be to his pursuers disadvantage then it would be to him. Besides, Wyatt Earp had been pursuing him for some months now and he was still no closer to catching Ringo then when he first started. Still it amused Ringo to no end Earp continued the chase. It never ceased to amaze Ringo the length people went to fulfil their desires for vengeance. Ringo never took it personally. People died all the time; the trick was to never become too attached to anyone for it to hurt.   
  
Of course there were people for whom he mourned, some he thought about frequently, others which he tried not think about at all. The ones he thought about were the friends who had died too recently for his liking, often at the hands of the man who was now chasing him into Perdition’s Fires, with no idea Ringo had been there since he was fourteen years old. Wyatt thought to make him suffer for his crimes with nary the slightest inclination Ringo had been suffering for as long as he could remember and there was little Wyatt could do to him that would make that any worse. Still Ringo could not helping missing friends like Old Man Clanton and Curly Bill Brocius.    
  
He actually shed a tear when the news reached him about Bill   
  
He did not know at which point he chose to run instead of staying around and facing Wyatt. Perhaps the deaths had mounted up to the point that the life he had chose for himself no longer interested him. When Bill had gone, the color seemed to have drained from his world. Ringo remembered how he and Bill had taken on the Earps in Tombstone. 

The Clantons were never smart about their disdain for the famous family of lawmen and chose to attack them in the open. Ringo and Bill had been smarter than that. Their way was subtle and unexpected. They crippled Virgil and they killed Morgan outright.  The strength of the Earps had always been in their numbers so they thought, but unfortunately with his brothers either crippled or murdered, Wyatt went on the rampage. Too many of their companions bore the brunt of that frenzied rage.   
  
Wyatt had killed Bill in much the same way.   
  
If Ringo had allowed vengeance to sink its ugly tenterhooks into him, he might have tried to avenge his old friend but he was too sensible for that. With so many of the friends who would have rode at his side to take revenge on the marshal dead or in prison, Ringo knew when the odds were against him. Besides, Bill often said that the dumbest thing a man could do was let things get personal. Once that happened, he opened himself up to a whole world of trouble  Therefore when the news reached him about Bill, all Ringo had done was to take a quiet moment to himself, allowing the emotion of sorrow to pass through him while toasting a drink to his lost friend before saddling up and riding out of town.   
  
From there he had traveled to California, spending a few weeks in San Francisco, getting high on opium in the dens to be found in Chinatown, enjoying the company of many a dainty whore before coming down to earth again. He was on his way back to the Territory when he heard Doc Holliday was dead. 

  
That did upset him a little because he had always wanted to see which of them was the faster draw. They had almost gone at it once in Tombstone. In a drunken stupor that was not exactly one of his finer moments, Ringo had challenged both Wyatt and the Doc to a gunfight. Wyatt was good with a gun but he was not the marksman the Doc was and it was Doc Ringo had really wanted to fight. The opportunity never came because the so-called police of Tombstone settled the matter before it spiraled out of control and the chance to face the only man who might have killed him slipped away forever.    
  
Now the Doc was dead. No doubt taken by the tuberculosis that reduced him from a well-spoken southerner to the sick, dying man he was. Holliday was the only man Ringo knew of whom had an even greater death wish then he. The last thing of challenge in his life had finally gone the way of the of dodo and suddenly Ringo was struck by the feeling it would not be long before he met his end as well. In some way, he knew that he had been waiting to die for quite some time, ever since that day when he was fourteen, in a memory he had all but buried for the sheer horror of it.   
  
There was nothing left for him anymore, not with Old Man Clanton gone, his son Ike rotting in jail and with Bill buried in Boot Hill.  Ringo rode into the Territory, certain that death would find him soon enough and if he were lucky, he would take a good many men with him when he went.   
  
After all, how else was Johnny Ringo supposed to die but in  blaze of glory?


	2. The Marshal

He had been travelling for almost a week now, searching everyone horse town and then some for the prey but so far, he had found nothing except another town even farther down the trail he had been following relentlessly. Sometimes he wondered if the thing he sought was an illusion, an apparition given form because of grief and guilt. This quest upon which he embarked with no end in sight felt as if it had taken his best years with it even though in truth he knew it was only little more than two. The Doc would say he was using the chase as an excuse to keep from getting on with his life. 

Perhaps his old friend was right but he would never be able to confess it because the Doc was dead.  
  
He was present when it happened, watching a man so proud and dapper, disintegrate before his eyes, trying not to remember the countless times Doc had watched his back and now his friend needed him most, he could do nothing to help. It broke his heart hearing Doc’s raspy breath or the coughing that seemed to rip the soul out of him each time it forced its way out of his throat. In the end, the Doc could hardly speak and all he could do was sit by his bed and watch helplessly as the disease took away the best friend Wyatt Earp would ever have.    
  
He died whispering his thanks to Wyatt because a gentleman did not take his leave of anyone without making appropriate farewells.  Wyatt tried not to get emotional thinking about the Doc, aware the display would have annoyed the sardonic physician to no end. However, there were too many periods of solitude during this quest where he had nothing to do during the nights but think and inevitably the memories of better days would return to plague him.

The memories about Doc were the hardest to bear but there were other deep wounds, hiding in the recesses of his mind, waiting for him to give breath to their existence by journeying down the winding paths of his past.  Wyatt had made avoiding those agonies something of an art and now he was so practiced at avoiding the issue it was almost second nature.  
  
He did not kid himself any more the badge he wore on his breast was for the enforcement of the law. The woman, who loved him, Josephine Marcus had stayed in California waiting for him to return, shattered that illusion before he left her to embark upon his quest.  She wanted him to stay with her and he had every intention of returning to her but he could not let this go, not until he was finished what he set out to do.  Being Marshal allowed him to seek his prey with more efficiency. It ensured he received cooperation from the lawmen he encountered in those little frontier towns where the enemy was known to hide.  He remembered what Josephine said the last time he saw her and her words still stung, especially when he was faced with yet another dead end.  
  
The badge had nothing to do with justice and everything to do with revenge.  
  
It was getting harder and harder to deny she was wrong because he _did_ want revenge. He craved it with so much need it was worse than desire. It made him continue even though the trail was as cold as the ashes of the dead he was attempting to avenge. It pushed him onward with relentless determination and Wyatt Earp was ruthless in his quest to find the man who shot his older brother Virgil, crippling him forever. However, not even Virgil’s injury could compare to the reason why Wyatt was driving himself like a man possessed because Virgil was still alive.  
  
And Morgan was not.

His younger brother had been shot in the back a few days after what had become known as the gunfight at OK Corral. It was fast becoming a legend that Wyatt did not care too much for especially when he remembered what it cost him. Morgan killed a man for the first time that day and it stole his younger brother’s innocence forever. Not that Morgan had much time to regret his loss. He was killed some days later, shot in the back. A man had the right to see his killer and his murderer had taken that away from Morgan.  
  
Wyatt had no idea which one of them was responsible, Curly Bill or his deadlier companion Johnny Ringo. Perhaps he would never know since it did not appear likely he was going to find Ringo anytime soon.  However, he had left nothing to chance because Bill was dead, Wyatt had seen to that.  Ringo was the only one left of Morgan’s possible murderers and Wyatt was determined to see justice done although lately he had begun to question whether or not he was the last victim of Ringo’s crime. 

After all, he was trapped in the cycle of the chase, unable to focus on anything else because of his determination to catch his brother’s murderer.  Was it possible Ringo knew this was exactly what he would do?  Wyatt hated to think he was that predictable because if he was, then his whole reason for finding the man was a lie and it was something he would not be able to face.  
  
Fortunately, it had not come to that yet and Wyatt found himself about to ride into another small town. This one did not look any different than the others he had seen scattered throughout the Territory.  Perhaps here he would find Ringo and if not, then a warm bed and a good stiff shot of whiskey would do just as well. He was not particularly concerned of which it was at this time. He was tired and in need of rest. He had been riding since daybreak and the sun was too high in the sky to continue any further.  Besides, he and his horse needed to get under the shade and the heat was much too hellish to permit them any further travel today.

  
The town of Four Corners reminded him in part of Tombstone when he had first arrived. There was just enough ruggedness about it to convince a visitor its lawless days were not that far behind it but more than enough prosperity in the streets to indicate it was thriving. It was a dusty town but then no settlement in the Territory could really escape the desert. As he made his way past the outskirts of the community, he could see it had a number of saloons and a large central hotel, which would serve him very well for the night. Despite being accustomed to life on the trail, it was nice to slip in between the cool sheets of a comfortable bed after a hard number of days riding.  
  
He refused to entertain the notion Ringo might be here because he had been disappointed so many times already and Wyatt was too jaded to feel anything resembling hope these days. He rode into town with little expectation of anything beyond his fulfilling his immediate needs for rest and a hot meal.  Of course, a stiff drink would not hurt either and when he entered the main street of town, he sought first, the nearest saloon to satisfy that particular requirement. 

It did not take him long to find one. Despite being a small town, there were two saloons, a place called Diggers Dan’s and a more respectable looking place called the Standish Tavern. Wyatt opted for the latter for that very reason. Dispensing with the need for lodgings at present, Wyatt directed his horse towards the place.  
  
His appearance in town did not raise much of a stir beyond the usual curious glances of townspeople at the arrival of a new person in town.  A few paused to look him over and while he noted there was caution in their eyes, this too was customary in the Territory. However, the badge that sat on the lapel of his duster did much to alleviate their concern and soon caution was replaced by curiosity.  

Wyatt led his horse to the hitching post before dismounting and going through the motions of seeing the animal properly tethered and close enough to the water trough to quench its thirst. After all its was hardly fair he should get a drink and his riding companion during this journey be denied.  
  
Leaving the animal for the moment, Wyatt reminded himself to ensure his horse be stabled at local livery he had seen whilst entering town before turning in for the evening.  It was mid-afternoon when he entered the saloon and the evening crowd was already starting to build up.  A sultry Mexican bartender was holding court behind the counter, giving orders to an equally fetching Creole barmaid who was armed with a tray of drinks.  Both stood out amongst the company of saloon girls because neither appeared garish adorned and seemed appropriate to more respectable surroundings than their present location. The barmaid moved off before he arrived at the counter but the bartender greeted him warmly once she caught sight of him.  
  
“Good afternoon,” she started to say but paused briefly upon noting the badge he wore. “Marshal. What can I get for you today?”  
  
“A whiskey will do for now ma’am.” Wyatt smiled at her pleasantly and then notice that there was a wedding ring on her finger and immediately became less familiar with his manner.  
  
“A whiskey coming right up,” she smiled a dazzling smile and Wyatt found himself thinking the man married to her was fortunate indeed.  
  
She went away for a moment to fill his order and Wyatt allowed himself to observe the patrons within the establishment. Most of the drinkers were travellers like him taking a break in their journey to other places. Others were cowpokes who had come off the trail or locals who were here for a little bit of entertainment, either in the company of the saloon girls or playing a hand of poker.  Wyatt did not see much danger in this crowd and felt himself relax a little before turning back to the bar counter where his drink was waiting.  
  
“Anything else Senor?” The lovely bartender asked him politely.  
  
“I don’t suppose I could get something to eat?” Wyatt asked hopefully, not really in the mood to go to a restaurant.  
  
“I can fix you something,” she replied. “You look like you need it.”  
  
“Can’t argue with you there,” Wyatt responded, removing his hat as a gesture of thanks and acknowledgement he was dealing with a lady, even in these surroundings.  
  
The woman offered him another dazzling smile before she disappeared into the kitchen at the rear of the bar and Wyatt returned his attention to his drink, making plans to get an early night so that he could resume his quest at daybreak. He would go through the motions of trying to learn if Ringo had been seen in these parts but he was not holding much hope of that.  If there was one thing that Wyatt knew about Johnny Ringo by now, it was the fact the man knew how to lay low. Ringo was certainly not going to walk through the front door.  
  
If there was one thing Wyatt Earp knew with certainty, it was the fact that when he finally caught up with Johnny Ringo, neither of them would expect it.

* * *

  
Married life was not what Ezra Standish expected.  
  
In truth, he had not known really what his marriage to Julia Pemberton would be like. Observing Chris, Vin and Buck was no assistance whatsoever, even if he did enjoy their domestic bliss. For the numerous times he had been in the Larabee household, he was somewhat amazed at Mary’s abilities to be able to juggle her roles as mother, wife and editor of the Clarion News while still managing to remain an immaculate housekeeper.    

Alex on the other hand who was going into the sixth month of her pregnancy was still managing to play doctor to Four Corners and keep house with Vin. Inez, who not only kept house with Buck, looked after a delightful infant daughter and ensured the smooth running of the Standish Tavern. 

With these three as examples, Ezra had come to the firm realization that there were tricks to life that were beyond the understanding of men and clearly in the purview of the fair sex. It was the only explanation he could conceive of why women were able to do the things they did. So, he was quite mystified than upon moving into Julia’s home to experience his own brand of domestic bliss, he found it was nothing of the kind.  
  
His marriage had only been a few weeks old and Ezra was finding that it was nothing like what he had imagined it would be. For so long he had been sneaking in and out of Julia’s home when he finally said goodbye to his lodging house, he was certain it was going to be nothing but bliss to be able to wake up in the same bed with her every morning.   Of course, with everything in life, imagination had little to do with reality and as Ezra found himself thrust headlong into the complexities of married life, he discovered that he knew very little about Julia beyond the romantic idea they had shared for so long.  
  
Like for instance, she couldn’t cook.  
  
Okay, that was unfair. She could cook a little but most of the time, she either ate the hotel restaurant or had food brought to her at the Emporium, since she usually worked until well after six.  When they shared supper before, it was usually because she bought it from one of the restaurants in town. This did not surprise Ezra as much when he first discovered that his desire for breakfast was soon followed by a rather blank expression on her face at realising he expected her to make it. She was after all, the beloved daughter of a millionaire, she probably had never had to cook a thing in her life.  
  
Of course, she did not know how to housekeep either.  
  
Ezra looked around the untidy house with a torn shirt in his hand wondering if it would be simpler if he did some of the housework. Julia was not at home and he wondered when she ever had time to make the place look presentable whenever he used to call on her. He rummaged through the closet where his clothes now rested and found to his chagrin that none of his shirts were laundered.  Further investigation revealed that his entire store of white shirts was currently languishing inside a hamper at the foot of the bed.  Ezra glanced at the shirt he was presently wearing and frowned unhappily. He and Buck had just pulled apart two brawling farmers at the local granary and in the process had been sent him tumbling into the dirt, soiling what appeared to be his last clean shirt.  
  
“Julia!” He called opening the door to the bathroom where she was presently bathing.  
  
His wife peered at him from under her hair, pinned untidily on her head as she soaked languidly in the cool water. She had returned home shortly before he did and he had not wanted to bother her until now. After a hard day’s work, Ezra could not begrudge his wife wishing a moment to herself. Her lips curled into a little smile seeing him, not at all paying much attention to the look of annoyance on his face.  
  
“Join me?” She asked teasingly.    
  
“Do I have any clean shirts left?” He inquired neutrally.  
  
“Aren’t there any in the cupboard?” She sat up in the bath, noticing the tension in his voice.  
  
“Not that I have been able to find,” Ezra pointed out. “They all seem to be in the laundry hamper.”  
  
“Oh,” Julia mused as she stroked her skin with the wet sponge, rivulets of foam and water running down her outstretched arms. “Becky Taylor does the laundry on Tuesdays. They’ll be done then. Now take that off and come on in,” Julia repeated herself, this time putting a hint of pout in her lips as her toes stuck out of the tub, wiggling at him with invitation.  
  
“Tuesday is tomorrow Julia,” Ezra replied. “I do not have any shirts until then.”  
  
“At all?” Julia looked at him with a brow cocked.  
  
“No,” he retorted more sharply than he intended. “This,” he glanced down at the shirt he was wearing, with its ripped sleeve and dirt covered front, “is all I have.”  
  
“We’ll just go pick up some new ones at the Emporium,” Julia said brightly, not seeing a problem. After all, the two of them had endured much worse in the past to be concerned about anything as mundane as shirts.  
   
“Julia,” he sighed. “I am your husband, not a kept man. I will not simply help myself to things whenever I need it from your Emporium.”  
  
“You’re serious,” Julia stared at him in astonishment. 

Of course, everything she had was his when they married. Julia was not so modern in her thinking to ever imagine that would be different. It was the way of things that upon marriage what was hers became his. She accepted this without question even if she did handle her own business affairs. However, it was not the kind of sharing that could be documented in titles or deeds. It was just the way it was.  
  
“Of course, I’m serious,” he exclaimed with exasperation. “I married you because I love you, not because I wish to live off you. I simply meant it would be nice if you could occasionally do some laundry.”  
  
The sponge fell from her hands and splashed into the water.  Green eyes met his with astonishment and suddenly, Ezra had the feeling he had been on the edge of a forbidden line and had crossed it without even realising it was there.  Julia stood up abruptly, heavy trickles of water running down her glistening neck and it was at this inappropriate moment Ezra found himself thinking of Botticelli's Venus rising from the ocean.  Completely naked, she stepped out of the bath and grabbed her robe; her emerald coloured eyes becoming like hard points of flint at she stared at him.  
  
“Are you telling me you expect me to wash your shirts? To clean up after you like some maid!”   

“It’s what married women do,” he said weakly and with incredible ignorance of the consequences until it was too late.  
  
“What married women do?” She gasped, her eyes blazing outrage as she stormed up to him, naked and soaking wet, oblivious to her nudity with murder in her expression.  
  
“Granted, I do not expect you to become Mary Larabee overnight but I thought at least laundering a shirt or two might not be too much to ask for,” Ezra stammered nervously. He swore inwardly as soon as he uttered Mary’s name, aware he had just made a bad situation deteriorate into an absolute catastrophe.  
  
“So now I’m not as good a wife as Mary!” Julia finally exploded. “Well excuse me Mr. Standish, or should I say my LORD AND MASTER!”  
  
“Julia,” Ezra started to retreat at the rage in her eyes, “now let’s not blow this out of proportion….”  
  
“Out of proportion!” She roared and snatched a bottle of perfume that was seated on the dressing table and flung it at him.  
  
Ezra had just enough time to stumble out of the door into the hallway when it impacted at the space where he had been standing, sending a spray of scented water all over his shirt but fortunately not glass. “Julia, I think you’re overreacting!”  
  
“Overreacting?” She hissed, side stepping the glass fragments as she followed him out of the room. “I am sorry I do not have time to wash and clean after you but this house we live in and the food we eat does not magically appear out of the goddamn dollar a day that you so magnanimously bring to the housekeeping budget!  I work just as you work and since I’m not going to start arguing about whose job is more profitable, I might remind you Mr. Standish if you feel my housekeeping abilities are lacking, then perhaps you ought to try a novel approach!”  
  
“Like what?” He looked at her, not daring to say anything more before made things even worse.  
  
“LIKE DOING IT YOURSELF!”  She screamed just before slamming the bedroom door on his face.  
  
For a few seconds after the echo of the slamming door had faded into stillness, Ezra let out a sigh and shook his head in frustration, “as mother would say, smooth Ezra very smooth.”

* * *

  
“Vin I can ride!” Alexandra Styles Tanner grumbled as her husband hitched her horse to the surrey he had made her buy a few days ago. She stared at the stupid contraption, wondering why this was necessary even though as a doctor, she knew perfectly well why he had insisted.

Vin ignored his wife as he continued to yoke her horse Phoebe to the little carriage, refusing to entertain another word of protest and wondering if it was such an unreasonable thing to wish to lock her up for the duration of the pregnancy with a gag in her mouth. The mental image conjured up by that brought an enigmatic smile to his face even as Alex’s complaints grew louder and more unreasonable in the background. For once in his life, he wished he possessed the Larabee stare. The ability to shut people up with that infamous glare was a talent Vin would have traded his right arm at this moment. 

As much as he loved Alex, the potent mix of hormones and resentment at not being able to do to the things she had always done had turned the woman he loved with all his heart and soul into the orneriest female this side of the Territory.  
  
He was certain she could scare away grizzly bears right now.

“No, you can’t Alex,” Vin said through his teeth, trying to remain calm. He was not one to get unusually agitated and prided himself with being unflappable at most things. Hell, he had ridden with Chris Larabee for almost four years and though the man was his best friend, there were times when even Vin wanted to strangle the grim son of a bitch, and these days Chris had _actually_ mellowed.  
  
“Look I’ll be fine,” she insisted, pacing the ground outside their newly built home situated on the ranch built on the land that had once been home to Chris Larabee’s shack. When Chris had married Mary Travis, the gunslinger had moved to town and allowed Vin to take up tenancy while at the same time establishing a horse ranch where Vin and Buck were equal partners.  The shack had burned down thanks to one of their enemies some months ago and Vin had taken the opportunity to build a real home for Alex and their unborn child.  
  
Vin’s fingers tightened around the strap of the horse’s reins, his knuckles almost turning white from the effort of his restraining his anger. He looked up at his wife and saw her staring at him defiantly, her cheeks flushed with annoyance, her face taking on that little girl petulance whenever she knew she was not getting her way. Her stomach was prominent by the swell of the life she carried within her and yet she looked wonderful. If anything kept him from snapping at her, it was the radiance of all that reminding him she was not in her right mind. Chris warned him about this, right after he gave Vin the valuable advice perhaps he should carry his gun close by for the rest of her term.  
  
_Bastard_ , Vin snorted to himself.  
  
“Alex,” he gave her a long meaningful stare, the one he knew she couldn’t resist. She was not the only one who knew how to use a pout to her advantage. “You can’t ride. It’s not safe. You’re a doctor, you know that better than anyone else.”

“Argh!” Alex threw up her hands in exasperation and glared at him. “I hate it when you do that!”  
  
“What?” He stared at her with blue eyed innocence.  
  
“You know!” She growled. “Use logic on me! I mean I hate this! I mean I love the idea of having a baby, our baby, but why can’t it be quick! It's insane, I know what to expect, I’ve seen it happen hundreds of times, I’ve delivered babies, advised mothers on how to care for their infants and right now I feel as maternal as branding iron!”  
  
A little smile crooked past Vin’s lips and he finished securing the carriage to Phoebe with a pull of leather.  Rounding the mare and her new burden, he went to his wife who was leaning against the side of it appearing flustered and depressed. Mood swings were also something he had noticed during the past six months and fortunately, he was now capable of dealing with it instead of walking around the place looking downright confused looking for peanut butter at strange hours of the night. Once again, Chris had been a fountain of useful information when he remarked Alex might get by better on dry crackers and actually convinced Vin to bring some for his wife.  
  
He was damned lucky he did not have them removed from an uncomfortable place following her reaction to his statement they were better for her than peanut butter.  
  
“I know it’s hard,” Vin started to say.  
  
“Wait,” Alex stuck her hand out at him, preventing him from speaking further. “This isn’t based on more useful advice from Chris?”  
  
Vin had to think about it before answering, “course not.”  
  
“Good,” Alex sighed in relief. “You remember what almost happened to you and those crackers.”  
  
“I remember,” Vin nodded instinctively brushing non-existent crumbs from his hair. “Don’t worry Inez explained it to me.”  
  
“Finally,” Alex grinned, “advice from someone who isn’t a man!”  
  
Vin knew he should have been offended but he was too smart to let on. Instead, he sidled next to her and slid his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him and holding her tight in his embrace.  “We’ll get through this darling.”  
  
She melted in his arms. Well truth be known, she could never really be mad at him for too long, even when she was throwing dry crackers at him. “I know we will. I feel so useless. I’m not used to feeling this way.”  
  
He supposed she could not, now that he considered it. Alex had spent most of her life with her father, taking care of him until she was old enough and knowledgeable enough to work with him. After that, she had dedicated herself to being a healer and there was always someone that needed tending to somewhere. If it was not being the physician of choice for one of the many injuries the seven seemed to have, even with Nathan as one of their numbers, it was as doctor to the town of Four Corners.  She travelled almost as much as he in her profession and she brought her healing to the Indian villages around the locality, not to mention the smaller communities that did not have y medical facilities of any kind. He loved her for her unfailing desire to help and he could appreciate her frustration at being incapable of doing the things that defined her. Vin supposed if he had suddenly lost his sharp shooting abilities or his tracking skills, he’d be just as ornery.  
  
“You’re wonderful,” he whispered into her hair, “and you could never feel useless. I’d be lost without you.”

“Liar,” she said with a little smile, not wanting to admit his reassurances were making her feel better.  
  
Vin chuckled but knew he had won her over, even if she was still resisting. “Once you have this baby, you ain’t never gonna feel like that again. Our son will need you as much as I will so you don’t gotta worry, you won’t be like this forever.”

“You’re such a sweet talker cowboy,” she turned around and stared into his eyes. “How can you stand being around me? I look like a whale.”  
  
Vin smiled perfectly aware of what she wanted to hear and kissed on the forehead. “I ain’t never seen no whale before but I’m sure you got one beat.” He winked.  
  
“Thanks,” she rested her head on his chest, “I’m sorry I’m acting so crazy Vin. I guess this is what they call the text book mood swings.”  
  
“Really?” He looked at her with mischief. “I hadn’t noticed. You ain’t much different to how you normally are – difficult.”  
  
“I am difficult?” She snorted imperiously. “Says the man who must have two eggs in the morning for breakfast, sunny side up with a serving of jam and toast with freshly brewed coffee or else you won’t get a civilized word out of him?”  
  
“What can I say,” the tracker grinned, unrepentant. “I’m a connoisseur.”  
  
Alex rolled her eyes; “this is what come of you hanging around Ezra.”  
  
Vin’s response was another embrace and this time he held on to her for a time, thinking how much he loved holding her and how good it felt to have her in his arms now they were creating life together. Having a wife, a child on the way, enjoying them both in the house he built with his two hands was as close to bliss as Vin ever thought he would experience in his life. Despite all the trouble that seemed to come the way of the Magnificent Seven, he and Alex managed to weather it without endangering their relationship in anyway. If anything, the bond between them had only strengthened and Vin had no doubt once she had the baby, she would be a great deal happier.  
  
“Come on,’ he pulled away from her, “let’s get going to town.”  
  
Alex let out a heavy sigh and stared at the surrey waiting for her. She knew he was being sensible in requiring her to make the journey to Four Corners in the carriage but it was just another symbol of all the things she could not do. She missed riding on Phoebe herself but most of all she missed riding with him on horseback, holding onto him, smelling the musk of his buckskin coat and the woody scent of his body. Nowadays, Peso just flinched at the sight of her approach, no doubt feeling all kinds of trepidation about having to support not only Vin but she who had suddenly become as large as a hippo.  
  
“I don’t suppose you’re going to let me ride there without the…..”  
  
“Nope,” Vin said shortly without even drawing breath to consider the question. “So, forget about even asking.”  
  
“But….” She tried to add.  
  
“No Alex,” Vin drew away from her and walked to the step that led inside the carriage waiting expectantly for her.  
  
“I could…”

“I’m sure you could but not today you ain’t,” he declared firmly in the tone of voice that very much said that he would be immovable on this matter. “Got anything else to say?” He looked at her sharply.  
  
Alex let out a heavy sigh and shook her head in response.  
  
“Good,” Vin smiled triumphantly to himself.    
  
For once, he had the last word.

* * *

  
Chris Larabee could smell Ezra Standish halfway down the street before he actually encountered the gambler on his way to the Standish saloon.   

What was more astonishing then the fact that Ezra smelled like the inside of a cat house was the fact he looked like something that ought to be bundled within the contents of a laundry hamper. Despite Ezra’s less than impeccable grooming, a situation Chris was certain the gambler would have found completely unacceptable, Ezra was putting up a brave front, pretending to appear nonplussed as if everything was status quo even though it was definitely far from that for him to be in this state.  
   
“Ezra,” Chris noted as he paused along the boardwalk, waiting for the southerner to catch up with him.  
  
As always, Ezra wore that impenetrable mask that allowed no emotion to escape his expression of choice.  Chris had no doubt he would rather die than show those around him he was in the least bit distressed. It might have worked if not for the fact Chris knew him too well to be deceived by any of the facades Ezra might choose to wear for the benefit of others.  Four years of friendship and weathering the worst of storms had seen to that.  Even if Ezra chose not to speak of what troubled him, Chris was more than willing to accept that on its merit because Ezra was a private person and he knew when to ask for help, no matter how embarrassing it might be.  
  
“Mr Larabee,” Ezra said stiffly, trying to maintain his composed expression even though the gunslinger’s natural curiosity was already attempting to discern the reason for his rather dishevelled appearance.  
  
“Rose water isn’t it?” Chris leaned forward long enough to take a slight whiff of the scent emanating from the gambler.  
  
“Very funny,” Ezra’s eyes narrowed at he glared at Chris, furious he could hide nothing from the gunslinger.  “I suppose there’s no hiding anything from you.”  
  
“Well not in this case since something does smell bad,” he grinned with a devilish gleam in his eye that was pure Chris Larabee.  
  
Ezra gave him another look, “fine if you must know, Julia and I had an argument. It’s nothing serious even though I’m certain nothing like this ever happens to you. After all you and Mary have had numerous occasions to prove that your life is a perfect example of marital bliss.”  
  
Chris cocked a brow at that statement; “you think so huh?”  
  
“Isn’t it?” Ezra grumbled.  
  
“No,” Chris laughed, wondering if Ezra would think the same if he had spent a day in the Larabee household during the first few months of little Mikey’s infancy. There were moments during the child’s midnight feedings where Chris and Mary had almost spilled blood, drawing lots as to whose turn it was going to be to feed the baby.  “There ain’t such things a perfect in a marriage Ezra, trust me I know.”  
  
“I suppose you’re right,” Ezra let out a heavy sigh as they came within sights of the saloon. “Perhaps I overreacted somewhat. I suppose I was being to presumptuous expecting Julia to wash my shirts.”  
  
Chris just about choked on his spit at that statement.  
  
“What?” Ezra stared at him following that reaction.  
  
“You ask _Julia_ to wash your clothes? Julia Pemberton?” Chris did not know whether or not to laugh in disbelief or shock, either way both emotions seemed appropriate for the moment.  
  
“Yes,” Ezra stiffened with annoyance at Chris’ amusement at his predicament. “Pray tell what is so funny?”  
  
“Ezra come on,” Chris looked at him. “There are women who do the cooking and the cleaning but even I know Julia ain’t one of them. She wouldn’t even know how.”  
  
“But she’s been on her own for sometimes without the complement of custodial staff that would have served her when she was in her father’s house. I did not think it unreasonable to assume she might have some idea of how to accomplish _some_ domestic duties.” Ezra retorted, however he was starting to see the magnitude of his error.  
  
“You don’t expect it from your mother,” Chris pointed out.  
  
“My mother is different,” he stated firmly.  
  
“Not _that_ different Ez,” Chris reminded.  
  
“That is not funny,” Ezra stared at him before he let out a groan, “Oh dear lord! What was I thinking?”  
  
While Julia was not like his mother in many respects (thank the heavens), she was not a woman who was accomplished in things domestic and he should have known better than to expect such of her.  After all, he loved her because she was unconventional and he could not believe he had been stupid enough to think she would play maid to him simply because he now called her his wife. Of all people, he should have remembered Julia was not made to run after a man and he knew he did not wish her to be that way.  
  
“Do yourself a favour Ezra,” Chris chuckled as he patted the gambler on the back, “get yourself a housekeeper.”  
  
Ezra’s response was corresponding laughter that showed his agreement with Chris’ statement. The two men walked into the saloon, locating the rest of their number who were already at their usual table.  Despite the fact they now had families of their own, it was important for them to continue this ritual of sharing a few drinks together each evening.  It reminded them despite the years that had come and gone and the changes evolving their lives, they were still friends and would always be no matter what transpired.  

JD, Buck, Josiah, Nathan and Vin were already congregated around the table and Chris saw Buck signalling to Inez across the room to bring them two more glasses of whiskey.  
  
“Thank God,” Ezra sighed at the prospect. “I could use a drink.”  
  
However, Chris did not hear him. In fact, the gunslinger’s attention was no longer fixed on the six friends at the table but rather singularly focussed on the man who was standing by the counter. His entire being fused with tension as instincts that kept him alive came into play with speedy intensity. His hand immediately went for his gun and the rest of the seven, with the noticeable exception of Vin Tanner, had not yet seen the caution in his eyes. 

Vin rose to his feet slowly, his gaze meeting Chris, aware of there being danger even if he was uncertain from where it came. He only knew the look in Chris’s eyes and that was usually enough for Vin as his hand reached for the sawn off rifle at his hip.  
  
Chris’s eyes were locked in mortal combat with that of the stranger at the bar, the stranger whose expression drained of colour upon seeing him.  The man was no one Chris recognized but in the same way he knew he was able to capture the attention of the room whenever he entered, this man was able to ensnare his undivided interest in the same manner. 

Clad in a respectable dark suit mostly hidden beneath his dark duster, the man with the drooping moustache stared at Chris with nothing less than bald hatred. Intense blue eyes bore into Chris Larabee’s skin and for the first time in his life, the gunslinger flinched under a gaze almost as powerful as his own.  
  
There was no time to think. The stranger’s guns were drawn but somehow, Chris knew immediately shooting him wasn’t going to be enough. Whatever ill, this man though he had done, Chris knew the stranger wanted to make him suffer. The rage in his eyes burned white hot and to Chris’s surprise there was something familiar in it, something Chris recognized even though he could not fathom what he had done to this man to earn so much black hatred. 

The man closed the distance between them as everything slowed to a crawl; Vin raised his gun to fire, preparing to put halt the stranger in his tracks before he reached Chris. However, the discovery of a gunfight about to erupt, sent the room into a state of pandemonium with bystanders rushing for cover and intruding upon the sharpshooter’s line of fire.  
  
Chris’s gun was drawn and he fired. The stranger moved almost as fast as him through the frantic movement of bodies attempting to escape. Screams impacted their ears but it did little to affect the momentum of the moment. For an instant of time, Chris was only aware of his gun discharging as he closed the distance between himself and the enemy. 

The stranger fired and Chris shifted position enough to ensure the bullet whizzed past his shoulder. He retaliated by firing again and saw the corresponding evasion carried out by his opponent who dropped enough to let the projectile fly past his ear before slamming into the glasses behind the counter. Chris did not react to Inez diving under the bar for safety because he was too busy pulling the trigger.  
  
By now, those in the saloon were aware of whom the main players in the commotion were and a path cleared between them as Chris jumped over a fallen chair as his enemy pushed aside a table, sending glasses and whiskey in all directions. Somewhere in the distance, he heard Vin shouting to get down but Chris was beyond hearing. The enemy fired again and this time Chris felt the bullet graze the cloth of his sleeve, his skin felt its heat but remained unbroken. He fired in turn and saw the stranger weave just as expertly as he had, avoiding the shot. The gunplay between them was almost graceful although to those present, hearts were pounding with fear and anticipation as to whom would survive the encounter.  
  
Chris did not know what he had done to inspire this rage coming towards him like waves of hellfire, he only knew he had to stand firm or be swept away by its power and its power was fierce indeed. He had never reached a point in his life where ever wanted to run or to think twice about rushing into a fight when it was time to do so but this occasion made him doubt, it made him wonder if he had not perhaps met the better man.  He brushed the thought out of his mind, forgetting all that would hold him back, most prominently the wife and children who would be devastated by his loss. This was a game with expensive stakes and the minute he unsheathed his gun, he had chosen to play.  
  
The bullets flew past each man, not meeting their mark even though in skill they were matched and though one was confused, he was as singularly committed to staying alive as the other and so neither fell as they advanced. The space between them diminished rapidly and in an instant, it paused as suddenly as it had begun with each man staring down one another’s gun. It was like a meeting of two great storms that were on the verge of a violent and cataclysmic collision. Those watching could not intervene as both men faced each other in a contest as old as the West.

  
Chris found himself staring down the barrel of the enemy’s gun and in turn, his opponent faced the same view in the barrel of his peacemaker.  The room was deadly silent now. The patrons of the Standish Tavern had left the premises in order to avoid being caught in the crossfire. Both men were breathing hard, gazes locked intensely as they did battle mentally as well as physically.  Chris wondered who the man was even if he had noted the badge of a US marshal.  His stance exuded the law unlike the men Chris had previously encountered wearing the same appellation. This was not Top Hat Bob who had come gunning for Chris with one eye or some imposter attempting to lynch Vin.  
  
This was the real thing.    
  
The stalemate continued as the anticipation built to almost breaking point. Chris’s gun did not waver as it stood firmly in his opponent’s face, just as his eyes did not flinch from the dark steel of the gun barrel before him.  
  
“Ringo,” the man finally spoke, breaking the quiet that brought a rumble of confusion from the six friends who were witnessing what was transpiring but were at a loss over what to do.  
  
“Who?” Chris stared back at him in confusion.  
  
“Don’t take me for a fool,” the stranger hissed. “Getting rid of your moustache and changing your clothes isn’t going to change who you are.” His voice was like grated glass, low and menacing. “You can’t hide from me.”  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chris responded. His mind reeling at the fact that all this could actually be a case of mistaken identity. It was almost laughable if the game were not so deadly and he poised upon the knife-edge between life and death.  
  
“You’re Johnny Ringo,” the stranger repeated himself with absolute certainty.  
  
“I’m Chris Larabee,” Chris retorted.  Chris knew perfectly well who Johnny Ringo was. One could not live in the Territory and not know the infamous outlaw who was once been the leader of the equally notorious ‘Cowboy’ gang that terrorized the West, stemming from the town of Tombstone. Of course, Chris had never seen the man himself and by all accounts neither had anyone else in recent years. Ringo had gone to ground to evade the relentless pursuit by legendary lawman Wyatt Earp. His eyes widened slightly at the realization.   
  
Oh hell….  
  
“Earp?” Chris exclaimed upon concluding who he was engaging in a classic standoff.  
  
“I’m glad you decided to give up this little act,” Wyatt said coldly, seeing nothing but Johnny Ringo in the face before him even if the black clad gunslinger was dressed a little different. Was this how Ringo managed to stay at large and so elusive for all this time? By disguising himself with an entirely different persona?  “Chris Larabee is a lawman.”  
  
“You’re right about that,” Vin Tanner made himself heard for the first time. “Here in Four Corners.”  
  
“He ain’t Larabee,” Wyatt insisted without taking his eyes off Chris. “He’s Johnny Ringo!”  
  
“Why do you keep saying that?” Chris demanded. ” I AIN’T HIM!”  
  
“JD,” Vin stepped forward, trying to diffuse this situation before someone pulled the trigger and blew someone else’s brains out. “Go get Mary.”  
  
  
“What?” Chris flinched but did not take his eyes off Wyatt’s gun. “What the hell Vin! I don’t want my wife in the middle of this! JD stay where you are!”  
  
The forcefulness of that demand froze the young sheriff in his tracks and he looked to Vin in confusion, unsure whether or not he ought to do as Vin ask or heed Chris’ orders.  
  
“Wife?” Wyatt gasped, causing a crack to appear in the certainty of his features. “You have a wife?”  
  
“And two sons,” Vin answered before Chris could. “This man is Chris Larabee, I’ve been riding for him for the last four years. If you ask anybody in town they’ll tell you the same Marshal. This ain’t Johnny Ringo.”  
  
“You expect me to believe that!” Wyatt demanded but Vin’s words had clearly affected him. The absolute belief in his eyes was gone and now Chris found himself facing an enemy that was no longer as certain about his situation as he had been a short time ago.  
  
“Most assuredly Mr. Earp,” Ezra added his voice. “Myself and my five associates have been employed by the Territorial Judge in these parts to maintain law and order in Four Corners for the past four years. Mr. Larabee is married to the editor of the local paper and has two sons.”  
  
“This is insane!” Wyatt cried out, refusing to believe that he was wrong. He had not gone mad! He knew he was staring at Johnny Ringo. “I know what Ringo looks like and this man is him!”  
  
“You’re saying Ringo looks like Chris?” Buck declared. “Look Marshal, that may be so but I’ve known Chris for longer than anyone. Hell, we even served in the war together. If he was sneaking off playing Johnny Ringo, I’d know.”  
  
“Thanks Buck,” Chris growled, not knowing whether or not his old friend had helped his case.  
  
“Senor,” Inez stood up from behind the bar. The lovely bartender had heard the conversation taking place and hoped that perhaps her earlier rapport with the lawman might allow him to believe the truth if she were to corroborate it.  
  
“Inez get down!” Buck ordered horrified that she was exposing herself.  
  
“Do as he says ma’am,” Wyatt responded in agreement. “You don’t want to get messed up in this.”  
  
“Marshal,” Inez ignored them both and continued nonetheless. “You’re a good man but you’re making a mistake. This man is not Johnny Ringo.   Look at him, not with your anger but with your mind. Tell me that you are certain that the man before you is the one you seek because if you are wrong, then you are condemning an innocent man.”  
  
Wyatt sucked in his breath because the possibility that he might be wrong was something he could not ignore.  He had spent his entire life protecting the innocent and as much as he wanted vengeance for the death of his brother Morgan, not even his rage against Ringo would allow him to betray everything that he stood for.  He did as the woman asked because he knew people and he had a sense of her as being someone worthy of trust and he could tell instinctively that she was sincere in her request. 

He faced the man whose gun was poised before his eyes and studied the face that looked uncannily like Ringo, if the words of those around him were to be believed and tried to find some semblance of the murderer who had taken his brother from him.  
  
There was none.  
  
Wyatt did not understand how this could be. The man before him wore Ringo’s face but his eyes were not the eyes of a murderer.  
  
“You look like him,” Wyatt said after what seemed like an eternity of time and lowered his gun.  
  
An audible sigh of relief flowed through the room upon his statement and a deep breath was in order for those who had been witness to the unfolding drama.    
  
“I’m not him,” Chris reiterated and dropped his gun to his side, glad that he was still standing and had not been forced to use it on the man before him.  
  
“You could be his brother,” Wyatt stated, wanting Chris to understand that he was not in the habit of accosting men in saloon, thinking they were Johnny Ringo. “Not even his brother, his twin.”  
  
“Chris really look like Ringo?” JD asked fascinated by this whole thing.  
  
For the first time since this all began, Wyatt’s gaze shifted from Chris’ to the young man who had asked the question. “Yeah,” he nodded slowly, still a little shaken by what he had almost done. “If it wasn’t for this little lady here, I wouldn’t have thought twice about shooting him.”  
  
“Well she’s got a way of cutting through the crap,” Buck said sliding a protective arm around his wife and giving Wyatt a clear indication of their relationship.  
  
“I noticed,” Wyatt swallowed thickly before facing Chris. “I’m sorry. You kind of caught me by surprise.”  
  
“I could say the same,” Chris remarked, the tension easing slowly out of him as he sheathed his gun back into his holster. “But no harm’s been done and if I look as much like him as you say, I can understand why you might have acted the way you did.”  
  
Wyatt stepped away from Chris and the others and went to the bar. His bottle of whiskey had miraculously survived the gunfire and waited for him. The marshal did not look at anyone when he muttered softly, “that’s no excuse.”  
  
And it was true. It was not. If he had killed Larabee then he would have been a murderer, no better than Johnny Ringo and wherever the outlaw was now, his revenge would be complete. He would have turned Wyatt into the very thing he hated. For the first time since Wyatt Earp had embarked upon the quest to seek out Johnny Ringo, the Marshal was faced with the possibility that it might be time to stop.  
  
Before he really did kill someone.


	3. Living Legend

It was quite something to be standing in the presence of a living legend and learning that the legend was nowhere equal to the reality.

Chris Larabee learnt this as he stared at Wyatt Earp who drifted away to the bar of the Standish Tavern, looking clearly shaken by what he had almost done a short time ago. When they stood before each other, staring down the barrel of each other’s weapons, Chris saw a man who was uncompromising in his principles, who was determined and relentless. Chris admired him even though it was likely he would have died when Wyatt pulled the trigger.  Chris could well believe the stories about this man, about the good he had done over the course of his life to solidify his reputation as one who believed in justice and would defend it to the very last.

However, at this very moment, the legend standing by the counter, downing his whiskey with far too much practice than comfortable, appeared weary and defeated. Something had broken inside him the instant he learned Chris was not Johnny Ringo. The others did not see it, but Chris could. He knew what it was like to feel  _ that _ desolate and despite what occurred between them earlier, Chris felt for the man.

More than anyone in this room, he knew what it was like to crave vengeance, to be led down endless roads, with the hope perhaps this time, it would be different.  When Ella escaped, Chris had felt that way but for him there was closure because he had eventually caught up to the murderer of his wife and child. The same could not be said for Wyatt whose pursuit of Johnny Ringo indicated that for the brother lost, justice was yet to be done.

With the commotion now ended, several patrons were returning to the saloon since it appeared the worst was over. A few were motivated by curiosity to learn the outcome of the gun battle while others were so accustomed to the routine of violence, knew instinctively when the danger passed, and it was safe to emerge once again. As the typically lively atmosphere of the saloon returned uneasily to the Standish Tavern, a vacuum formed around the space occupied by Wyatt Earp. No one approached him save Inez who obliged him with another drink when he requested it but mostly, the other patrons left him alone.

“You okay?” Vin asked, the tracker’s eye resting on the torn cloth of Chris’s duster where a bullet passed within a hair’s breadth of his skin.

“Yeah,” Chris nodded slowly, his gaze still fixed on Wyatt as the rest of his friends gathered around him.

“He was going to kill you,” Buck Wilmington declared, staring at the lawman before meeting Chris’s eyes. “He really was going to pull the trigger.”

“I can’t believe how many times we’ve ridden after Ringo with no idea,” Josiah muttered with a shake of his head and his astonishment was mirrored by all of them. 

Chris remembered the times when news reached Four Corners the infamous outlaw was in the immediately locality and the seven had often ridden in search of the man to apprehend him. However, Ringo always managed to remain elusive and Chris did not know whether he ought to be grateful for that fact. How would it be to look upon someone who was your exact double? To see the dark reflection of one’s self in the eyes of another who could have so easily been him if circumstances were different.   

“I suppose finding out this way is better than meeting him face to face,” Vin shrugged.

“You think?” Chris gave him a look because there was no ‘good’ way to find out you bore an uncanny resemblance to a man by all accounts was a psychopathic killer.

“It was just a thought, pard.”

“Someone ought to go talk to him,” JD suggested quietly as he stared at Wyatt.  In truth, JD wanted badly to go up to the lawman and quiz him on all his extraordinary experiences, the gunfight at OK Corral, his dealings with legends like Bat Masterson and Doc Holliday but it did not appear as if Wyatt Earp needed adulation right now. In fact, it appeared to JD what Wyatt needed most was someone to talk to and JD just knew if he tried, he would say the wrong thing.

“He don’t look like he wants company right now,” Nathan remarked, noting the glacial expression on the man’s face.

“I don’t know about that,” Buck retorted, observing something else entirely in the man’s manner. “There’s a world of hurt behind that badge. Maybe a good talking to is what he needs.”

Chris did not respond but he left his friends nonetheless and approached the lawman cautiously, wondering what Wyatt’s reaction would be at his arrival. The marshal eyes shifted just enough to let Chris know he had been seen.  Chris debated whether this was such a good idea, after all, Wyatt looked at him and saw Ringo. However, by the same token, Chris looked at Wyatt and saw a man who was at the crossroads and could go either way. Chris had been there once and if it was not for Buck, Lord only knew how things might have turned out.

“Inez,” Chris glanced at the lady bartender and tapped lightly on the countertop for a drink.

She nodded slightly, noting he intended to take the vacant stool next to the Marshal. Her expression showed concern, but Inez had too much faith in  Chris to question his actions.

“Coming right up,” she said with an uneasy smile.

“I’m sorry,” Wyatt spoke after she had left them.

“It was an honest mistake,” Chris replied, not knowing what else to say.

Wyatt turned to him and stared with astonishment. “I almost killed you.”  

“I know,” Chris could not deny that fact. “But you didn’t.”

“If it wasn’t for your friends and the lady, I would have,” Wyatt insisted.

“But you didn’t,” Chris could tell that the marshal was taking the mistake he made very hard.  “I’m still here.”

“And why is that exactly? What do you want?” Wyatt stared at him. “I almost killed you and you’re being too damn civil about it.”

“Cause I’ve been where you are,” Chris met him straight in the eye and answered with plain brutal honesty.

“Oh, and where is that exactly?”  

“Looking like you could go either way,” Chris retorted.

Wyatt faced front. “Damn you look like him,” he muttered softly. “You even sound like him. Do you know how scary that is?”

“Not as scary as meeting him face to face,” Chris confessed. “I don’t think I like the idea of Ringo looking like me. I’ve done enough things in my life I ain’t too proud of. I don’t need to be mistaken for the things he’s done too.”

“He killed my brother,” Wyatt said shortly, hoping that explained his behaviour. Because he had almost killed this man for Ringo’s crime, Wyatt felt the need to give him a reason why.

Chris was aware of the history between Wyatt Earp and Johnny Ringo.

One simply could not be in the know about things in the West without being aware of the tale. The story of how Wyatt Earp had gone to Tombstone with his brothers after finishing his work as a lawman in Dodge City, was well known throughout the Territory. Upon arriving at Tombstone, Wyatt found the thriving town securely under the yoke of a gang of outlaws called the Cowboys.

For a time in Arizona, the Conchise Cowboy gang had run supreme and there was no lawman left untouched in the whole state until Wyatt Earp. Wyatt’s justice had been brutal and swift because that was the only kind of lesson the Cowboys could understand. Following the infamous gunfight at OK corral, the Cowboys exacted their vengeance by killing Wyatt’s brother Morgan and crippling Virgil.  After that, Wyatt Earp went on a crusade to bring the Cowboys to justice.

Johnny Ringo was the last one still at large.

“I heard, but he’s never been here.” The gunslinger replied, hoping the intelligence might give Wyatt some aid in his search.

“It doesn’t matter,” Wyatt sighed lowering his glass. “I’m done.”

Chris stared at him, “what?”

“I mean I’m finished.” Wyatt repeated himself. “I’ve been chasing him so long I don’t know why I’m doing it any more. Is it justice or revenge? Revenge is a fool’s game. I won’t play it. I’ve put everything else on hold for too long, just trying to hunt him down. If I keep on, maybe I’ll catch him and maybe I won’t. The thing of it is, I don’t want to find out. Morgan,” the marshal sucked in his breath at the mention of his brother’s name because even now, it was painful to speak about his dead sibling. “Morgan looked up to me for standing up for what’s right. I won’t be doing that if I keep hunting Ringo.”

Chris understood but said nothing, letting Wyatt talk.

“Before he died, a friend told me to live because he couldn’t.  I’ve got a woman waiting for me to be done with this chase and I’m gonna do her a favour by walking away while I still can.”

It was quite something to make an admission like that. Chris wondered if the tables were turned would he be capable of making such a healthy decision. He recalled how he had been when he learned his family’s death was no accident, that someone was behind the tragedy. Until he was led to Cletus Fowler, he was a man obsessed.  

When he had learned it was Ella that was responsible, he had been in such a stupor of shock, he had not managed to act in time to keep her from fleeing. In the end, it made little difference because the presence of Mary in his life brought Ella out and it was Mary who dealt with the woman once and for all.  He had been so grateful to see Mary alive that he never considered how he had felt about being cheated of taking revenge himself.

“Sometimes that’s the best thing you can do,” Chris nodded. “I’ve been where you’re at and for a long time, it ate away at me.”

“That’s why you’re standing here?” Wyatt asked with a little smile. “To see to it that I’m not a lost cause?”

“Something like that,” the gunslinger remarked.

“Thanks,” Wyatt replied. “I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance to knock some sense into me.”

“Day’s early,” Chris raised a brow. “And I don’t exactly see you burning a trail out of town just yet.”

“I will,” the Marshal laughed. “I’ve got a long ride ahead of me.”

“Where are you be headed?” He inquired as he downed his own drink.

“San Francisco,” Wyatt replied quietly. Josephine was waiting for him in California and he did not intend to disappoint her. He also knew if he lingered in Four Corners any longer than necessary, he might lose his resolve to end his quest and he did not wish that to happen, not when he was on the verge of putting this all behind him.

“I hear California’s nice this time of year,” Chris commented.

“I do too,” Wyatt responded, somewhat surprised the weight on his shoulders felt a little less now that he reached this pivotal decision. In retrospect, he supposed the ease of his decision to move on had a great deal to do with the fact he had doubted his quest for some time now. Being forced into a position where he had almost taken an innocent life gave him the push needed to make the choice. He wondered if he should thank Chris Larabee for being that impetus.

“I’ll be moving on in the morning,” Wyatt stated after a pause. “I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you, what with trying to kill you and all.” A hint of mischief crossed the marshal’s face.

“Don’t mention it,” Chris grinned back. “You’re welcome to stay a spell. Ain’t no rush to see you leave if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Thanks,” Wyatt replied genuinely touched by the consideration offered by a man he almost killed. “It’s appreciated but I’ve got to get moving before I change my mind. Don’t know how long I’m gonna stay this sane.”

“Take advantage of it while it lasts,” Chris advised.

“I planned to,” Wyatt replied finishing his drink and deciding he had no taste for another. He reached into his coat and retrieved a few battered notes from his pocket before placing them on the counter.  With that he turned away from the bar, glancing at Chris long enough to tip his hat in the gunslinger’s direction. “See you around Larabee.”

“Likewise, Marshal,” Chris replied in turn even though they both knew it was the last time they would ever lay eyes upon each other again.  Turning back to the empty shot glass before him, Chris did not need to look as Wyatt Earp made his way out of the saloon. Inwardly, he hoped that the marshal would be able to stick to his resolution to give up the quest for Ringo.  He would hate to learn Wyatt Earp had come to a tragic end chasing down the outlaw. As one who burned for vengeance for so long, Chris knew how fruitless it could be and the best moments in his life had come about because he managed to move on.  

It was the best revenge he could have possibly inflicted on Ella.

After Wyatt had gone, Chris ordered another drink from Inez and returned to the table where his friends were awaiting. They had stayed out of the conversation because Chris had not invited them to join him when he approached Wyatt. It was clear something had been achieved by the way Wyatt left the saloon since neither man resumed hostilities and seemed to have engaged in civil conversation.

“Everything okay?” Vin Tanner asked first. Predictably, he had been the first to speak after the marshal’s departure.

“Yeah,” Chris nodded slightly. “He’s leaving.”

“Leaving?” Buck inquired. “Don’t tell me he’s gonna keep chasing after Ringo?”

“Well the man did kill his brother if the rumours are correct,” Ezra interjected. “That sort of thing does tend to stick in a person’s mind.”

“What happened Chris?” JD shook his head of their theories, wishing to hear from Chris himself of what had come of his conversation with Wyatt.  JD could not deny he was excited at the thought of being in the presence of Wyatt Earp, but he had tried to use some maturity in restraining his eagerness to meet him. However, now that Wyatt was gone, JD found it hard to contain himself.

“He’s riding to California tomorrow,” Chris answered, taking pity on the young man before he burst from anticipation.

“California?” Nathan asked bewildered. “Ringo’s in California?”

“No,” Chris replied automatically. “Wyatt’s lady is there. He’s going to join her.”

“Well,” Buck’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Never let it be said I don’t encourage a man and a woman getting together but I thought he was chasing Ringo.”

“Not anymore,” Chris announced. “He’s walking away while he still can.”

“Walking away?” JD exclaimed, unable to imagine the great Wyatt Earp turning away from any fight. “You mean he’s just letting Ringo get away with it!”

“It takes a strong man to turn away from vengeance JD,” Josiah reminded. “Not many people have the courage to do that.”

“I guess,” JD frowned. The others did not admonish him too much for his excitement. For all of JD’s maturity of late, he was still a young man and the folly of youth had not quite left him yet.

“At least one thing came out of this,” Vin replied. As always, the tracker was thinking far ahead of them all and his concern had not abated even if Wyatt no longer chose to kill Chris.  “We know you look a hell of a lot like Ringo.”

“You consider this a good thing?” Buck stared at the younger man in question.

“Yeah,” Vin retorted. “At least if anyone comes after Chris for no good reason, we might have some idea why. They could think they’re coming after the wrong man just like Earp.”

“I see Mr Tanner’s point,” Ezra agreed. “Those who make that mistake might not be as conscientious as the Marshal. They may not stop to consider they may have the wrong man, not until after they pull the trigger.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Chris said with a sigh. “Can’t be looking over my shoulder for threats I don’t know about.”

“No, you can’t,” Vin agreed with Chris on that point but not about letting the situation remains as it stood. “But that don’t mean they won’t come.”

“And what about Ringo?” Nathan added his voice into the mix, perfectly aware of what Vin was alluding to.  “Ringo’s been through this area a couple of times. Just because we ain’t seen him don’t mean he won’t be back. If he looks that much like you, he could ride straight into town without raising an eyelash because people would be tricked into thinking he was you.”

“Are you proposing we find him?” Chris looked at the faces before him.

“It might be an idea,” Vin replied. “Wyatt’s too close to this. When a man feels that personally about finding someone, they tend to miss things. We won’t.”

Chris saw the determination in the tracker’s eyes and knew Vin wanted to bring this man in, before Ringo did something that made it impossible for the seven to ignore him or his existence. Vin’s concerns were never to be taken lightly. His best friend had good instincts and Chris had learnt to rely on them because they usually kept him alive. If Vin decided this needed dealing with it,  then Chris would oblige him. Inwardly, Chris could not deny meeting his mirror image face to face was going to be disconcerting, just as disconcerting as it was for him to know somewhere out there, a man was walking around wearing his face, especially when that man was Johnny Ringo.

“Alright,” Chris conceded to point Vin was trying to make. “If he’s in the Territory, we’ll find him. I kind of think that Ringo ain’t dumb enough to hang around where Wyatt can find him, he’s probably miles away from here.”

* * *

“I mean how do you do it?” Julia asked Mary Larabee across the kitchen table of the Larabee home.  She eased back into her chair with a sigh, wishing the answer to her problem would surface in the cup of tea she was presently holding in her hand. Unfortunately, as calming as it was to taste, it did not eliminate the problem occupying her thoughts now.

“Do what?” Mary looked at her mystified, having listened to Julia’s ramblings about what had happened between Ezra and her earlier today.

“Do what you do,” Julia exclaimed with exasperation as she glanced at Mary who was presently feeding Mikey in the seat of his high chair. The child was happily consuming some concoction that might have been strained carrots as his mother patiently fed him, oblivious to the conversation taking place around him. “I mean you have two children, one of which is an infant, a job as newspaper editor and you manage to play housewife as well.”

“Not without help!” Mary laughed and wondered if Julia remembered at this moment, Billy was taking supper with Audrey and Lilith King. If it were not for the fact her oldest son was occupied elsewhere, Mary would have had to deal with two boys instead of one, making this little gathering they were presently enjoying quite impossible.  Therefore, Julia assertion she managed to juggle all aspects of her life with ease was somewhat ludicrous. She was merely fortunate enough to have a wealth of friends who could help her, just as Julia did; though at the moment the woman’s anger was too intense to see it that way.

“I’m in the same boat as you Julia,” Alex remarked from her own seat.

Sensing she was in something of a mood, Vin had wisely left her in the care of Mary, hoping by the time he came to collect his wife, her sour temperament would be gone. “I feel as if I can’t manage anything anymore. Vin won’t even let me ride Phoebe on my own.”

“Well you  _ are  _ pregnant,” Mary pointed out as she listened to the two women lament the wrongs of their present circumstances.  “You’re into your sixth month and you do more than you should already. Women in your state of pregnancy should not be traipsing around the countryside playing doctor.”

“I  _ am  _ a doctor,” Alex frowned. “It’s what I do. It’s what I’ve always done! I can’t stop being it even though I’m going to have a baby!”

“Uh oh,” Julia glanced at Mary with concern, “she’s starting to get upset. Get more pie.”

“Very funny,” Alex gave her a look. “And you want me to feel sympathy for you not being able to wash a bunch of shirts?” The doctor said sarcastically but nevertheless took the last piece of pie left in the dish and began scooping dollops of cream onto it.

After all, arguments aside,  pie was still pie.

“It’s not the shirts,” Julia growled, her green eyes blazing with annoyance over the whole issue. “I work. I work very hard. Now, what comes out of the saloon is adequate but since Ezra shares the profits with Inez down the middle, a situation I have no difficulty with mind you, in all truth he cannot support the lifestyle we are both accustomed to. My house costs to upkeep and yes, we have money thanks to the Emporium, but the Emporium does not run itself. I must be there to do it. I cannot stop working to run after him like some maid.”

“Julia,” Mary placed a hand on the younger woman’s arm to calm her from becoming even more agitated. “I’m sure he does not expect that.”

“You should have heard him this morning! He stood there expecting me to wash his shirts! I mean in almost two years we’ve been together, he’s never even made mentioned of something like that! I just could not believe it.”

“Well Ezra is kind of prissy that way,” Alex pointed out, suddenly grateful that she never had such difficulties with Vin. As it was, she winced in horror at the number of times she caught him attempting to wash his clothes in the same trough he used to water Peso.

“Ezra is not prissy,” Julia said coming immediately to her husband’s defence even if he did not deserve it. “He’s a southern gentleman and you know how they are.”

“Prissy,” Alex smiled. “Look I’m not taking a shot at Ezra okay,” she quickly explained. “I mean I live with a man who looks like he’s come off the trail on the best of days.  However, Vin is not Ezra and you two are not exactly frontier material. I mean the woman’s role in the household is clearly defined, she takes care of things like clothes and cooking. I don’t have that problem with Vin because he’s used to doing things for himself. I mean right now, he hates the idea of me doing anything but even under normal circumstances, he doesn’t expect me to look after him. He leaves the house to me most of the time and helps when I ask.”

“And Chris was married before,” Mary chimed in as she wiped a smear of carrot from Mikey’s lips and was rewarded with a smile. “He knows what it’s like to be a father and a husband and, what it takes to run a household. You wondered how I do everything that I do? Well I don’t do it on my own, that’s for certain. Chris helps when he can. I do cook, and I do wash but while I’m doing those things, he looks after Mikey and Billy. He gives me a couple of hours of his time when the ranch can manage without him.  When I need to run the paper, I let Rain or Casey baby-sit. There’s not a special trick to it. It’s just a matter of management.”

“So, you’re telling me Ezra is behaving like a pig because he doesn’t know better?” Julia stared at them both incredulously.

“Of course!” Alex stated firmly. “He told me once his mother left him with every relative she could think of when he was a kid so I’m guessing even though he wasn’t wanted, he was taken care of. However, he was never around long enough to understand how a household functions, to know what needs to be done to make a house a home.”

“That’s true,” Julia agreed recalling what Ezra had told her about his childhood. It was not a happy experience for him because he was often passed along from family to family until Maude had exhausted all their patience and he was forced to travel with her while she purportedly taught him a trade.

After that it was traveling from one hotel to another, searching for the perfect game and the con, with maids and servants who often took care of his needs once the proper monetary incentive was provided.  “I suppose he’s never really had a home to know better,” Julia mused, realizing that perhaps Ezra was not the complete moron she thought he was, when she first arrived at the Larabee home.

In truth, she hated fighting with him. They had waited so long to be married, what with the recent trials they had faced. Until this morning, the early days of their matrimonial state was utter bliss. She loved being his wife. She loved waking up in the morning next to him. She supposed she should have considered what it meant insinuating him full time into her life.  After all, their illicit affair over the past two years was nothing in comparison to the reality of living together as man and wife. It was a great change and like her, Ezra was feeling his way too. Julia conceded it was fair they would stumble every now and then. No marriage was pure bliss. If it were, how would one truly appreciate the good times?

Still they did have a problem.  Mary and Alex were right, Ezra had behaved as he did because he had no idea how a household was run because he never had one to learn.  She on the other hand had belonged to a stable home for many years and as she recalled how her father’s large estate was managed, found herself arriving at the solution to her problem with surprising speed.

“That still doesn’t let him off the hook though,” Alex reminded noticing that Julia’s anger had waned. The devil in her would always enjoy provoking the titian haired beauty. Perhaps it was a throwback to the animosity of their initial relationship, whose meat had little substance after so many years of friendship but still allowed Alex to enjoy immensely beguiling the Emporium owner.

‘No, it doesn’t,” Mary agreed as she rose from the table briefly to drop Mikey’s empty plate into the basin where her dishes were washed. “Imagine demanding it of you! I’m rather surprised Ezra did not try charm first.”

“Well you know how he is in dirty clothes,” Alex winked at the newspaper editor.

“I do know,” Julia said sweetly. “And I have the solution at hand,” she smiled triumphantly and reached for the pot of tea in the centre of the table.

“And that is?” Mary asked as she sat back down at her seat, this time liberating a rather relieved Mikey from his high chair to the more comfortable position on her lap. As she did so, Alex refilled her cup dutifully.

“I need a housekeeper.” Julia declared firmly.

“A housekeeper,” Mary nodded in approval of her suggestion. “I think you’re right. You certainly don’t have the time to cook and clean after Ezra and to be honest, I can’t picture you playing the role of laundress and cook anyway”

“I’ll try not to take it as an insult,” Julia deadpanned. “Question is, how do I find one? They don’t exactly fall out of the sky.”

“Are you talking about someone you want to come around every day or someone who’s gonna share the same roof?” Alex inquired, drawing her attention briefly away from Mikey with whom she was amusing by making funny faces, much to the child’s delight.

“I don’t know,” Julia responded, somewhat taken back by the question. “I guess I’m not sure.”

“Well I personally think you need someone there  _ all _ the time,” Mary replied. “It would certainly make it easier for you to cope with things unexpected. I mean what’s Ezra going to do when you go away for a few days to Eagle Bend or Sweetwater for those buying trips of yours? If he’s that useless while you’re there, can you imagine what state he would be in if you were actually gone?”

“Yes,” Julia nodded, “the thought does frighten me. Still how do I go about finding someone?”

“Why my dear,” Mary winked lashes in her direction, “you merely place an ad in  _ my _ paper. Detail exactly what you want and ensure that you have references that can be checked, and your problem is solved.”

“That could take days,” Julia sighed. “What am I going to do in the meantime?”

“That’s simple,” Mary retorted shaking her head. “Simply pay who does your laundry now a stipend to increase her workload.”

“I suppose that would work in the interim.” She conceded. “Still, I should make him suffer.”

“Oh, make him grovel a bit and when he does, forgive him,” Alex laughed. “Besides, you are newlyweds you know. You’re sure to have teething problems.”

“I don’t seem to recall you having these kinds of worries when you were first married,” Julia pointed out.

“Well I didn’t go marry myself a southern gentleman,” Alex replied with her chin raised high. “I settle for the wild and woolly kind.”

“Amen to uncomplicated frontier types,” Julia raised her cup and was joined by Alex’s in something of a toast to the absent Vin Tanner.  “By the way, have you two been thinking up names for the baby yet?”

“Oh yes,” Alex nodded, her face bursting into a radiant smile of pleasure as her hand instinctively rested on her swelling abdomen. “At the moment we’re thinking of William if it’s a boy and Yasmine after my mother.”

“Your mother’s name was Yasmine?” Mary’s brow was raised. “My, that’s terribly exotic.”

“Sort of like my mother, if I recall correctly,” Alex volunteered. “It is derived from the Jasmine flower.”

“Yasmine,” Julia mused. “I’ve always been partial to Penelope myself but that’s nice.”

“Well Vin’s still hoping for a boy,” Alex declared. “I think he’s scared about having a girl mostly because he has this silly notion that he wouldn’t have a thing to teach a girl.”

“Oh men!” Mary shook her head in disgust. “Why do they always think such stupid things like that!”

“I know, I know,” Alex chuckled. “I mean I told him my father taught me most of everything I know and if we have a girl, she’ll probably be running after him,  _ especially _ if she takes after me but he still thinks he’d have nothing to teach a girl.”

“Well Buck was the same way,” Mary pointed out, reminding them of how anxious Buck had been when he was faced with the possibility of having a little girl. Fortunately, when Elena Rose was born to the world, the former ladies’ man was nothing but delighted at having a daughter. “I’m sure Vin will come to his senses once little Yasmine or little Will is born.”

Alex was about to respond when they heard the front door opening down the hall before Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner made their entrance into the house. Naturally the conversation reverted to more innocent discussions about who was doing what at the next Sunday social.  This fooled neither man of course, but both had been married long enough to have the sense to keep that knowledge to themselves.

“Ladies,” Chris greeted with a slight tip of his hat that was repeated by Vin. He moved towards Mary and planted a small kiss on his wife’s lips before he liberated his son from her lap. A rakish grin crossed his face as he held his son in his arms, a picture that made everyone present feel warm and sentimental.

“Hey darling,” Vin pulled up a chair next to his wife. “You ready to ride back home?”

“Just about,” Alex smiled sweetly at her husband, unable to deny it was good to see him. “I’ve eaten Mary and Chris out of house and home.”

“Well not quite,” Mary laughed. “But she  _ did _ try.”

“You’re so funny,” Alex glared at her with mock anger.

“Chris,” Mary looked at him. “I heard there was trouble at the saloon? Is everything all right? I wanted to go over there but I didn’t want to leave Mikey alone.”

At the time of the shooting, Julia and Alex had yet to arrive and Mary found herself confined in her house with no intelligence of what was transpiring. Fortunately, Gloria Potter dropped in and mentioned whatever altercation had taken place at the saloon, seemed to have righted itself with no casualties and put Mary’s mind at ease.  It was the one thing she hated about having to care for an infant, not being able to see what trouble was brewing beyond the walls of her home, especially when her husband was the law.

“Just a case of mistaken identity,” Chris replied, downplaying the situation a great deal because he did not wish to worry her. Besides, he would rather explain it to her when they were alone. “No one was hurt, and everything is okay.”

“I suppose Ezra is still at the saloon then?” Julia said stiffly becoming decidedly uncomfortable by the expressions of domestic bliss around her. It only served to drive home the memory of her quarrel with Ezra earlier that morning.

“Yeah,” Vin and Chris exchanged glances, guessing the lady was probably missing the gambler about as much as Ezra was feeling badly about what happened between them.  “Looking kind of miserable too.”

“So he should,” she muttered under his breath.

“Come on Julia,” Chris stared at her with those all-seeing and all-knowing eyes which only served to infuriate her because he knew precisely how she was feeling even though she feigned indifference to Ezra’s misery. “He feels really bad about what happened.”

“He told you?” Julia groaned in embarrassment. “Wonderful, now the whole world knows I can’t wash a shirt.”

“You told us,” Alex pointed out somewhat confused.

“Yes but that’s you!” Julia exclaimed. “You tell us all that time, you think that buckskin coat of Vin stinks if it isn’t washed properly, but that never goes any…. further…. until… right…. this….” Julia drifted off realizing that she had inadvertently given away Alex’s main peeve with her husband.

“Oh, thanks a lot!” Alex barked.

“You really think my coat needs a good wash or else it stinks?” Vin stared at his wife.

“Okay,” Chris spoke up before more chaos erupted. “Enough. Julia,” Chris looked at her seriously. “Ezra was sorry when I talked to him and don’t worry, it will never leave this room you can’t wash a shirt. although Vin I’m sorry but the stuff about your coat ain’t exactly a secret.” The gunslinger chose to end that statement with a devilish sneer.

“Hey!”  Vin’s reaction made his smile even wider.

“That’s very helpful  _ Christopher _ ,” Mary gave him a reproachful look.

“Well they don’t call me the boss for nothing,” Chris grinned.

* * *

Ezra Standish peeked past the front door of his house with caution, wondering how he was going to face his wife after their angry exchange this morning. At this time, all he could think to do to mend the fences between them was to grovel copiously and hope that the suggestion he offered to their problem would be enough to set things right.  He hated fighting with Julia even when it was merely a lover’s tiff. On this occasion he felt particularly guilty because on further reflection, he had concluded that Julia had behaved the way she had because she had assumed that things between them were as they always were. Why shouldn’t they remain the same? After all, it had been good enough to bring them to this point in their relationship.

Upon entering the house, he peered cautiously up the hallway, hearing life emanating from the parlour. Sucking his breath, he resolved himself to march right up to Julia and do whatever it took to make her forgive him. He loved her dearly and the matter of unwashed shirts was not going to be the cause of a rift between them, not when they endured so much together.   He should have known better than to expect what he had from her. After all, that was not why he had fallen in love with her. It was her differences that had snared his heart and upon further thought, he had no right to try and change her. She certainly never demanded the same from him.

“Ezra,” Julia called out as she started out of the parlor upon hearing his approach.

“I’m here,” Ezra announced himself as they met face to face in the hallway.

For a moment, they merely stared at each other, trying to put aside the ugly memory of their last time together. Ezra could see Julia was still upset about it and he himself felt the same distaste for what transpired between them.

“Julia,” he started to apologize, determine this enmity between them would end before it became more.

“I’m sorry Ezra,” Julia spoke before he could.

“Oh, my dear!” He exclaimed with just as much gusto and embraced her warmly, “I am the one who should be sorry! I had no right to expect such mundane tasks from you!”

“Oh no it’s alright,” she quickly replied when they had parted, happy that he was feeling the same guilt about this whole situation as she. “I haven’t gotten used to the fact I’m no longer alone in this house. I should have thought about you too!”

Suddenly they each paused and gave one another a long stare before the humour of the situation dawned upon them and they both started laughing.  Within seconds, Ezra had his wife in his arms again, holding her as if they had never fought as viciously as they had this morning. God, he loved her.

“I’ve been thinking…” Julia started to say.

“We need a housekeeper,” Ezra finished off the statement and they found themselves staring at each other once more with the same expression.

Before laughing again.

* * *

The first thing Johnny Ringo had done upon returning to the Territory was head to Manzano, a forgotten little town, swallowed by the land on the eastern slope of the Manzano Mountains.  Fifty years before, settlers had tried unsuccessfully to find a town around the ruins of the old Spanish missions Abo and Quarai built by missionaries trying to bring God to the Apache. When that effort had ended in failure, both sites were abandoned. Nevertheless, settlers still built in the ruins and tried to make a go of it.  However, like the missionaries before them, it took a scant decade for the newcomers to realise the Apache threat would be a constant and moved on.

These days, the ruins of Quarai was a haven to outlaws looking for a place to lay low. Ringo had found himself at the Plaza de Apodaca, the town’s main square which had since been converted into a partially tented saloon with plenty of liquor and working girls for those willing to pay for the privilege. The rest of the plaza was occupied by tin shanties that provided accommodation as well as a private locale for a man to bang the whore he’d bought for the evening.

Ringo liked the place because it was filled with familiar faces and as he caught up with old friends, getting drunker by the minute, he concluded he was never being driven out by Earp or any other lawman again. If they wanted to find Johnny Ringo, he wasn’t going anywhere. Let them find him and he’d prove why he was the deadliest outlaw there was.

He was sitting at a table with Pony Diehl, one of the few men he considered his friends after Curly Bill had passed. Pony and Ringo went all the way back to Tombstone and it was Pony who’d watched his back when he dealt with Virgil Earp. It still brought a smile to Ringo’s face how frustrated the great Marshall had been, unable to prove it was either of them who done it.  Also, at the table was some kid, trying to play the part of gentlemen gambler. While they sat on opposite sides of things, Johnnie-Behind-The-Deuce O’Rourke’s attempt was laughable in comparison to Doc Holliday.

Still tequila made  _ anyone  _ tolerable.

They were working through it when Billy Claibourne stepped into the Plaza, scanning the area and spotting them. Even though Claibourne fancied himself a gunslinger, the truth was, Ringo thought him a coward. At the OK Corral, he’d begged Earp for his life and ran out of the place with a streak of yellow running down his back. Ringo had little patience for anyone who couldn’t stand up for himself, especially in the middle of a gunfight. He probably shared the Marshal’s disgust when he let Billy go.

Billy hadn’t changed much and still looked too young for his years. Ringo suspected Billy could be a hundred and still look twenty years younger. Even the man’s effort to grow a goatee and moustache, did little to hide his youthful appearance.  Nor was it helped that he looked somewhat bookish with those steel rimmed glasses perched on his face.

Billy approached their table, his watery green eyes staring at the outlaw with an expression Ringo didn’t much care for. He’d shot men for less.  

“What?” Ringo asked suspiciously. Billy was eyeing him in a way that could only end with a gunshot.

Pony, who was a little younger than Ringo, was clean shaven and hid his face beneath a tan Stetson and his formidable bulk under a brown duster.  More than familiar with the man’s moods, Pony recognised the gleam in Ringo’s eyes all too well and immediately took steps to keep things from turning nasty.

“You gotta reason for eyeballing the man or are you just looking to get shot for no good reason?” He drawled easily, his tone sounded amused even though the situation was far from it.

Billy blinked and shook his head, realising his faux pas and immediately averted his gaze from Ringo.

“Sorry Johnny,” he apologised and sat down quickly. Yet upon doing so, he stole another quick glance at Ringo if a little less overtly. “Just kind of taken back.”

“Well I’m intrigued,” O’Rourke declared, speaking for everyone at the table.  O’Rourke was dressed in his dapper best and yet, despite the finery, could not carry it off as well as Holliday had done. He leaned back on his chair, twirling a gold pocket watch  in his hands, as if it were a coin.

“Why?” Pony asked as Ringo waited patiently for an answer. The hand which had moved surreptitiously to the butt of his gun earlier, shifted back to its former position on the table.

“Well,” Billy picked up an empty shot glass and poured himself a drink, before speaking. “You ever heard of Chris Larabee?”

Ringo could not say he had but then he’d been out of the Territory for some time now. There were always gunfighters, outlaws and lawmen looking to make a name for themselves. They popped up as frequently as prairie dogs on the plain. However, Ringo saw Pony straighten up, the amusement bleeding out of his features.

“Yeah, I heard of him,” Pony answered, throwing a glance at Ringo to indicate this was worth paying attention to, before facing Billy again. “He’s a gunslinger with a pretty fast draw. I hear he’s a lawman or something...”

“In a town called Four Corners,” Billy confirmed.

“Fast draw huh?” Ringo shrugged, having heard such claims before and finding the reputation was never equal to the reality.

“So, what about this Mr Larabee?” O’Rourke prompted, wanting to hear more.

“Well I was in Four Corners a few days ago,” Billy explained, recalling the day he spent in the town, taking a break because his horse had thrown a shoe.  “I saw Larabee in one of the saloon and you’re right,” he glanced quickly at Pony. “He is a lawman there, with six other guns.”

“None of this is interesting me,” Ringo replied, his impatience starting to show.

Billy swallowed, knowing he’d better get on with it before he got himself shot. Ringo was known to be unpredictable and downright lethal when he was drunk. “He looks like you Johnny.”

“What do you mean, looks like him?” Pony shot him a look.

“I mean, if you two were standing next to each other, I’d think you were twins. I mean he  _ really  _ looks like you. Hair’s a little lighter and he don’t wear no ‘stache but he looks an awful lot like you.”

“Really?” Ringo sat up in interest. “What else?” ¶

“The locals call him and his men the Magnificent Seven.”

This caused a small burst of contemptuous laughter across the table before Ringo prompted Billy to continue. “Really? Go on,” he was genuinely interested now. 

“After I got a look at him, I asked around. He’s been in town for about four years now and rides with Vin Tanner, supposedly the best tracker in the territory. Apparently, he’s married with a wife and two children.”

“He’s married?” Ringo asked somewhat surprised by that. The notion there could be someone out there wearing his face, with a completely different life intrigued Ringo to no end.  Fairy tales were told about situations like this.

“Yes, real pretty too.” Billy continued. After seeing Larabee, he’d made it his business to find out all he could about the man, mostly because he knew Ringo would be interested when Billy arrived for this meeting.  “She’s a newspaper editor at the local paper. One of those decent Christian women who’s a pillar of the community, very proper.”

“Seems like he has it all,” O’Rourke replied, no longer twirling the watch but polishing it with a handkerchief.

“Might be worth taking a look,” Ringo said, eyeing the others at the table. For the first time in too long, something had sparked his imagination and he had nothing else planned. It might be interesting to see how this Larabee lived.  “How about it boys? Want to take a ride with me?”

“Sounds like it could be interesting,” Pony agreed, grateful to undertake an occupation that might lift his friend out of his melancholy.  “Let’s go see this Chris Larabee and the Magnificent Seven for ourselves.”

 


End file.
